life, death, love and other forms of poetry by alcoholic poet

I watched some Star Trek and then I decided to boil potatoes. The weight of the pot more stunning than the items it professed to manipulate.

I've always been envious of transporters and holosuites. The first being convenience. When everything I want is at a distance. The second being fantasy. When everything I want is only nominally real.

I wouldn't mind a replicator either. They always replicated inanimates. Food and Machinery. But molecules are unbiased. Surely, they could've replicated beings. I would recreate the people who have moved me. That I have misplaced. And remind them of how unreliable science is.

I removed my potatoes from their pot. Sliced thin, yet still hard inside. An aggressive analogy for all people I've come across in life.